Tag Archive | tulips

Flowers

I’m grateful to have gotten phone service back today after more than a week without; and to get a call from dermatology that it was a basal cell and it’s all gone; and to have had stamina and strength to start playing with a rough draft of the rock garden; and for the first iris to bloom, and the last tulips, and the first lilacs, and for the Fuji apple blossoms. I’m grateful that Stellar was happy today: happy to eat, happy to walk, happy to nap, happy just to hang out with me all day.

Playing with rocks and plants for awhile this morning, just to get some ideas.
Always grateful for my constant companion, eager helper, and quality control inspector.

Green

I’m grateful for the green leaves of tulips, and for these gorgeous orange tulips some of which are throwing more than one bloom.

Today I’m grateful for green things, and not just the usual like lettuce, kale, spinach; spring leaves on the Amur maple or apple or crabapple tree, or any newly leafing tree; or fleetingly lush green fields; but the unusual, like the green pond goo that nearly camouflages the green and brown spotted back of a big fat lady northern leopard frog who hops into the pond when I startle her from the wet green grass at the edge – and the green on her back as well, and grateful that my choices provide habitat for this precious native amphibian.

And I’m grateful for green limes, and the green glass that holds the first margarita I’ve made in a decade. I used a ‘new’ recipe: 2 oz. tequila, 1 oz. Grand Marnier, 1 oz. fresh lime juice, and a half ounce Agave syrup, shaken hard over ice and poured over ice in a salt-rimmed glass. Drink by the pond with the leopard frogs.

I’m grateful for all the green of early May in the high desert, much of which will fade to brown or tan within a month or two in this extraordinary drought, and grateful that I ‘own’ water enough to keep this little oasis somewhat green and moist and fruitful enough to support a little ecosystem through the year.

Home Safe

Stellar awaiting our morning walk

I’m grateful for another full day of life on this marvelous planet. Grateful to wake up and walk with my big old dog, grateful for a productive morning at home, grateful to make it out of the dermatologist’s office with only six freezes on my face and one biopsy that he thinks is a superficial basal cell and not melanoma (but god, why did he even have to mention that word?) He didn’t seem worried so I won’t. I’m grateful for a good relationship with a kind and competent dermatologist and his assistant. Glad I didn’t fall asleep on that long drive up there, and plenty of sensation to keep me awake on the drive home. And then, I was grateful for a long hot shower and a martini at the pond.

I’m so grateful every time I come home after being away, even for just a few hours. Anything can happen out there. Of course, anything can happen here too, but it just feels better to be home than out on the highway, especially with all the extra traffic detoured from the US 50 closure. Once I’d rinsed the city trip off and out of me, we took our evening walk.

Sun sets beyond the Ancient One.
I love watching Stellar sniff the air, or anything else; I love watching his nose at work.
Grateful for a bowl of bright tulips lit just so through the west window as we came in for the night, home safe home.

Sunday Morning

I’m grateful this old man had another exciting morning ramble through the ancient juniper forest.
Grateful this intrepid little kitty kept pace the whole way.
Grateful to see Indian Paintbrush in bloom, which consistently signals the arrival of the first hummingbirds.
Grateful for the gorgeous, joyful colors of tulips in bloom.
Aprés walk, a perfect breakfast: latté, cardamom cake, and a good read. I’m grateful for this day of rest between two busy weeks, and for all the perfect little pieces of connection, story, nature and wonder that filled it.

Today, I’m grateful for the fullness of Sunday morning, all this beauty and adventure in the first hour awake. I’m grateful the day unfolded in peaceful ease, a little yarden work here, a little homework there, some housework mixed in, and a couple of zoom visits, including cocktails with Miss Sarah Belle: I’m grateful that the universe threw us together by chance 32 years ago and that she opted to open her great heart and mind to me. And, I’m grateful that I finally saw the mama phoebe pop her head up out of their fortified nest after he sang to her from the top of the birch tree. Life’s simple pleasures.

This Precious Day

I’m grateful today again for the wild plum tree, full of bees and other pollinators. How fast things are changing in the garden day to day now that it’s starting to warm up! I’m grateful for this precious day that will never come again.
I’m grateful for the brilliant colors of tulips, and green growing garlic.
I’m grateful for this airy cardamom cake I whipped together this evening.

Teeth

It was a beautiful morning, thwarted only by the promise of rain that never came.

One of the ideas that is used in the lineage of mindfulness training that I’m cultivating this year is that of mental hygiene. We spend at least five minutes a day attending to our dental hygiene, why do we not spent at least that amount of time attending to our mental hygiene? The idea has been bugging me for the past six months, as I’ve begun spending far more time on mind training than I have on physical training or fitness, never mind teeth. I tend to clench my jaws during sleep, funneling all the day’s anxiety into the night rather than dealing with it while the sun’s up. As a result, I found out today, the surfaces of some of my teeth are crazed like old china.

In Colorado, California, and Washington, dental hygienists are allowed to practice on their own unrelated to a dentist’s office.

But that didn’t really worry the dental hygienist I saw for the first time, with gritted teeth, a bit worried that they were in as bad shape as they felt. In fact, for not having been to a dentist in almost three years, my teeth are in great shape, and I was grateful again today, as yesterday, for the compassionate care of a qualified female medical professional. The only thing Jen was really worried about throughout the teeth cleaning was the “aggressive sound” of her instruments on my delicate dentition. She apologized several times for it, reassuring me that though it sounded bad it really wasn’t. In between jaw stretches, when she had her hand out of my mouth, I reassured her that it didn’t sound aggressive, it sounded like progress.

“You’re doing great,” she cheered me on several times. I felt safe again, from the moment I walked into her office. I used to be not fond of the smell of disinfectant, and normally might have gagged at the scent when I entered. However, in Covid times, I found the aroma comforting, and relaxed immediately after meeting her. No one else in the office the entire time, everything I encountered spic n span (until my muddy shoes touched the chair), and what seems like a solid protocol for both her and her patients’ well-being. It was the most fun I’ve ever had getting my teeth cleaned, and though I kept feeling my body tense up as she scraped gently away, I also kept being able to release, let go, relax. One thing that amazed me is how did she manage to put so much pressure on the scraper, or the floss, as the tartar resisted, and then not let the tool or the floss plunge into my gum when it finally released? I was impressed with her control, and surrendered to her capable hands and the general feeling that I’d chosen well to trust her. I’m so grateful to have finally found again a place I feel safe getting my teeth tended, and inspired to pay more attention to them myself. Her intake questionnaire asks, among many other things, Do you want to keep your own teeth? YES! I answered emphatically. Floss more, was essentially what she said.

I’m grateful for my teeth, that they’re in such good shape 62 years into this life, that they serve me so well, that I know now to be gentle in what I chew to protect their fragile enamel (No ice chewing, she advised), that regular brushing and occasional flossing has been enough to keep them stable for three years, that she accepts ACA insurance so I can go back more often; I’m grateful for my teeth for all they do for me daily, crunching into celery, tearing and chewing a lamb chop, lending emphasis and clarity to facial expressions. And for all they have done for me in the past. May these teeth keep on biting, tearing, chewing for several more decades!

Lynne Norton Anderson’s exquisite raku art hangs on the wall of my new favorite teeth cleaner’s office.
Late today I took the plastic off the potato bed to find the first five red potatoes sprouting through the soil surface. So grateful for this small success, and eager now to plant the rest of the potatoes this week.
I’m grateful for blooming tulips and growing garlic.
Another random juniper, unnoticed until this evening’s flat light.

Letting Go: Tulips

I’m grateful that in those few hours every few days that it’s warm enough, native bees are out in the few flowers already open.

I’m grateful I celebrated these tulips yesterday, before one of them got eaten. A couple of others that hadn’t bloomed yet also got – nipped in the bud! And, I’m grateful I heard the first hummingbird today! I rushed inside and boiled some nectar, set it in the mudroom to cool for a few hours, and put the first feeder up. I wish I’d thought to make nectar ahead of time like Deb did, so when I heard that first unmistakable zzzzip! through the air I could have put the feeder out right away. Oh well! It’s out now, that’s all that matters.

I’m grateful for the new garden gate underway, so far simply built but not yet hinged in place, so it’s wired for now. I’m guessing between removing the old temporary gate and replacing this one, a doe got into the garden and ate a few tulips, then escaped. I’m grateful I don’t really care who left the gate open long enough for that to happen; it could have been me but I don’t remember. Grateful I’m able to LET IT GO. It’s just a couple of tulips: and I’ve got a beautiful new gate, almost.

Second Shot

When life gives you cold coffee, throw some vanilla ice cream into it and enjoy a whole different experience.

I’m grateful for having a freezer that runs off of solar power that I can keep ice cream in, as well as many other staples. I’m grateful for coffee beans from Brazil, roasted and ground in the next town over, and mailed monthly to the box at the top of my driveway, and grateful for all the people along the way from the coffee growers to the mail lady and everyone in between. I’m grateful for help in the garden, and my good dog and cat, and waking up each morning in a cozy bed. I’m especially grateful tonight that I’ll be getting my second Covid vaccine tomorrow morning, and grateful for all the people from start to finish who developed it so fast, tested it (and let it be tested on them), manufactured it, shipped it, stored it, and will operate the vaccine pod tomorrow. If I don’t show up for a few days, chalk it up to a vaccine after-effect, and I’ll be grateful that I’m able to lay low and let it go at whatever pace it takes.

I continue to be grateful for the lovely red tulips with their gorgeous green foliage that brighten every day they bloom in.

But Still…

Today I’m tired, and I’m sad about Stellar, and I’m disappointed in myself for not finishing an assignment. But still, I’m grateful. Grateful for another day with my dear old wobbly dog, grateful for the red tulips and the white grape hyacinths, and the rare conditions of my life that allow me to have time to meditate; grateful for the teachers who inspire me in every sense of the word, literally reminding me to be grateful for each breath.

I’m grateful that yesterday was not the last time we got to walk to the canyon together. We both hobbled down there this afternoon, and he did pretty well considering how weak he was last evening. He seems pretty strong in the morning, but as the day wears on his back legs seem to wear out. Each day is another opportunity to practice equanimity, to release attachment to the inevitable outcome.

A Whole Day in the Garden

I’m grateful to see the first garlic shoots popping up.

I’m grateful I got to spend a whole day in the garden. I chose to leave everything inside undone; today was the first day since sometime last year that it was nice enough to spend the whole day outside. From morning coffee til evening cocktail, Stellar, Topaz and I did our own things out in spring sunshine: Stellar mostly worked on his hole under a juniper, alternately digging and sleeping in it; Topaz inspected our progress and watched birds; I covered the rest of the tulips with chicken wire, cleaned up, rearranged and visualized in the food garden, brought out some hoses and watered for the first time, zoomed with cousins, ate and read and wrote, and planted a few more patches of seeds. After sunset I sat up on the deck and watched the rising of the first super moon of the year. It was a perfect Sunday spent in worship.

Topaz examines the lean-to infrastructure and finds it satisfactory.
Chicken wire cages protect nascent tulips from marauding deer, and I’m grateful all over again for my birthday present from Rosie, a beautiful kinetic sculpture I was finally able to stand in the thawed ground of the Buddha bed.
In between our yard and garden projects we found time for a few short walks in the woods.
Sunset light on a tire planted with tulip and crocus bulbs.
I’m grateful for his skillful supervision.